Jock Of The Bushveld by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick (Chapter 20)( Page 5 ) Jantje

He laughed almost hysterically, his eyes disappearing altogether and every tooth showing, as I lifted his arm to investigate; and then in high-pitched falsetto tones he shouted in a sort of ecstasy of delight, "Die ouw buffels, Baas!  Die buffels bull, Baas!" "Buffalo!  Did he toss you?"  I asked.  Jantje seemed to think it the best joke in the world and with constant squeals of laughter and graphic gestures gabbled off his account. His master, it appears, had shot at and slightly wounded the buffalo, and Jantje had been placed at one exit from the bush to prevent the herd from breaking away.  As they came towards him he fired at the foremost one; but before he could reload the wounded bull made for him and he ran for dear life to the only tree near--one of the flat-topped thorns.  He heard the thundering hoofs and the snorting breath behind, but raced on hoping to reach the tree and dodge behind it; a few yards short, however, the bull caught him, in spite of a jump aside, and flung him with one toss right on top of the thorn-tree. When he recovered consciousness he was lying face upwards in the sun, with nothing to rest his head on and only sticks and thorns around him. He did not know where he was or what had happened; he tried to move, but one arm was useless and the effort made him slip and sag, and he thought he was falling through the earth.  Presently he heard regular tramping underneath him and the breath of a big animal: and the whole incident came back to him.  By feeling about cautiously he at last located the biggest branch under him, and getting a grip on this he managed to turn over and ease his right side.  He could then see the buffalo: it had tramped a circle round the tree and was doing sentry over him.  Now and again the huge creature stopped to sniff, snort and stamp, and then resumed the round, perhaps the reverse way.  The buffalo could not see him and never once looked up, but glared about at its own accustomed level; and, relying entirely on its sense of smell, it kept up the relentless vengeful watch for hours, always stopping in the same place, to leeward, to satisfy itself that the enemy had not escaped. Late in the afternoon the buffalo, for the first time, suddenly came to a stand on the windward side of the tree, and after a good minute's silence turned its tail on Jantje and with angry sniffs and tosses stepped swiftly and resolutely forward some paces.  There was nothing to be seen; but Jantje judged the position and yelled out a warning to his master whom he guessed to be coming through the bush to look for him, and at the same time he made what noise he could in the tree top to make the buffalo think he was coming down.  The animal looked round from time to time with swings and tosses of the head and threatening angry sneezes, much as one sees a cow do when standing between her young calf and threatened danger: it was defending Jantje, for his own purposes, and facing the danger. For many minutes there was dead silence: no answer came to Jantje's call, and the bull stood its ground glaring and sniffing towards the bush.  At last there was a heavy thud below, instantly followed by the report of the rifle--the bullet came faster than the sound; the buffalo gave a heavy plunge and with a grunting sob slid forward on its chest. Round the camp fire at night Jantje used to tell tales in which fact, fancy, and superstition were curiously mingled; and Jantje when not out of humour was free with his stories.  The boys, for whose benefit they were told, listened open mouthed; and I often stood outside the ring of gaping boys at their fire, an interested listener. The tale of his experiences with the honey-bird which he had cheated of its share was the first I heard him tell.  Who could say how much was fact, how much fancy, and how much the superstitions of his race?  Not even Jantje knew that!  He believed it all. The Honey-bird met him one day with cheery cheep-cheep, and as he whistled in reply it led him to an old tree where the beehive was: it was a small hive, and Jantje was hungry; so he ate it all.  All the time he was eating, the bird kept fluttering about, calling anxiously, and expecting some honey or fat young bees to be thrown out for it; and when he had finished, the bird came down and searched in vain for its share. As he walked away the guilty Jantje noticed that the indignant bird followed him with angry cries and threats. All day long he failed to find game; whenever there seemed to be a chance an angry honey-bird would appear ahead of him and cry a warning to the game; and that night as he came back, empty handed and hungry, all the portents of bad luck came to him in turn.  An owl screeched three times over his head; a goat-sucker with its long wavy wings and tail flitted before him in swoops and rings in most ghostly silence--and there is nothing more ghostly than that flappy wavy soundless flitting of the goat-sucker; a jackal trotted persistently in front looking back at him; and a striped hyena, humpbacked, savage, and solitary, stalked by in silence, and glared.